Inner Child

Did you know?
Within each of us lies a feeble creature,
Our inner child,
Our youthful spirit,
He or she cradles our whimsy,
Our inner magic and imagination,
Our belief in flying castles and fairytales,
Our je ne sais quoi,
It’s a treasure we ought to protect,

But alas,
The poor moppet has a shelf life,
Wasting away year by year,
Diminishing in frame and power,
A candle slowly going out,
As the fumes of the world choke it,
It’s an uphill battle to keep it breathing,
But worth the fight,
If only to say you tried.

Spelunker

To find the ideas and words to voice ones truth,
We need to delve into the subterrane of our wit,
Descend into those tunnels unmapped,
To excavate those nuggets of self,
And return them to the surface,
To be smelted into artistic ingot,

It’s a mysterious realm in those caves,
That grey matter quarry,
So close yet so alien,
Only fitfully lit by electric neurons,
It’s impossible to know what you could unearth,
Jewels and coal in equal measure,

To discover that most valuable of material,
You must be a spelunker,
A miner,
A dangerous hobby to be sure,
But rewarding in the extreme,
To reveal those diamonds of your minds reserve.

The Unknown

I gaze out of my window,
And up into the sky,
That sapphire display of experiences and worlds unknown,
That projection screen for hopes and fears,
I see other worlds that are out of reach,
Or are they imaginary?

The great azure sky looms over,
Acting as a backdrop for my minds eye,
The sun illuminates it,
Acting as a catalyst for what I see,
The clouds act their little plays,
Trying to obscure the enigmas I see,

I see worlds of splendor,
I see nightmare-scapes,
I see fiends and seraphs,
Horrors unbound,
And otherworldly monsters,
Oh the monsters,

Alien worlds that are wholly unknowable,
Stars shimmering every colour of this world,
And many that are not,
Worlds of untold beauty and potential,
And worlds of misery and black lightning,
I’ve seen these before in my dreams,

Then I become cognizant of something,
I was staring into a mirror all along,
A window into the human soul.

Periphery

They say the eye is the window to the soul.
You can see a persons good in their eyes.
And their evil.
A looking glass to the soul.
An eye reveals who someone truly is.

But what of your periphery?
That forgotten component of this looking glass.
Your periphery is a nexus for your imagination.
An object seen in the corner of your eye could become anything.
A friend?
A threat?
A mystery?

Was that shape a killer?
Was that flash a specter?
Was that shadow a monster?
Was that light an angel?
The corner of your eye could be benevolent.
Or it could be treasonous.
It depends on your imagination.

Do you dream of love and peace in this world?
Or do you perhaps dream of carnage and villains?
Do you imagine worlds of shadow and mystery?
Then look to your periphery vision.
It could show you anything you wish.
Or that which you don’t.